


Last Man Standing

by LilMissHammond



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Break the Cutie, F/M, Heavy Angst, all the death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilMissHammond/pseuds/LilMissHammond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When old friends James May and April Roux start dating, no one is more surprised than Richard. But everything seems to be going perfectly. For a month anyway. And then things start happening that make Richard wonder who this April Roux really is, and what secrets she's hiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: James May

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I originally posted on my Wattpad account, and have tidied up a bit to put on here. I adore the plot of this story, but I'm not so sure about how it came out. Ah well.  
> As I put in the tags/warning, there are MAJOR character deaths in this story. Death is pretty much what drives the plot. Also the main female character is a bit of a... nutjob sounds a lot better than psychopath.  
> Enjoy!

"And on that bombshell, it's time to end the show!"

The camera panned away from the three men standing around a beaten up car, and Richard visibly relaxed.

"Finally," he said, yawning and stretching. "Right, who's coming to the pub?" He glanced between James and Jeremy, even though he knew the answer was both of them.

"Er, I can't tonight. I've got a date," James said.

Well, he thought he knew. "A date?"

"You?" Jeremy added, staring at James in disbelief.

"Yes, me. I have a date. Now, if you don't mind, you can all sod off to the pub and leave me alone," James snapped.

Richard and Jeremy shared a look. "Who's your date?" Richard wheedled.

"Like I'm going to tell either of you." He turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd. The other two frowned after him.

"Do we follow him?" Jeremy asked eventually.

Richard shook his head. "He won't be going straight there, trust me. He's going to go home and fuss with his hair for a good hour before his date."

Jeremy laughed, nodding. "Pub, then."

"Pub," Richard agreed with a grin.

 

 

Richard was mostly right in his teasing; James did indeed drive back home, although it was for a different reason. His date tonight was coming over. But, of course, he did end up fussing with his hair at least three times before she showed up. He didn't know why he was so worried about what his hair looked like, he had never worried before now; he'd known this girl for years. He supposed it was because now they were hanging out as something more than friends, something that could potentially lead to snogging.

James wandered back through into his kitchen, pawing through the cupboards for something to nibble on, something that she might enjoy as well. Chips? He didn't know what flavour she liked. Crackers? He had nothing to go on them, except cheese - and he knew she despised the stuff. Fruit? Was that a little bit poncy? In the end, he settled for emptying a bag of Sea Salt chips into a bowl; you could never go wrong with that, right?

He glanced up at the clock. It was only five and she said not to expect her until at least seven, for dinner. James stood and went to the crock pot simmering away in the corner, lifting the lid and giving the food a sniff. It smelled delicious, and made his stomach grumble more. He grabbed a handful of the chips. For dinner, James had decided on her favourite winter food - casserole. It wasn't half fancy, but it was still good, hot food and he knew she'd eat it.

_Bzzt. Bzzzt._

He snatched his phone up from the counter happily only to see Richard's name on the screen. He let out a small sigh.

_Richard: 'How's the date prep going, mate?'_

_James: 'Perfectly well, if you must know.'_

He slipped his phone into his back pocket, snagged a few more chips from the bowl and went to sit in the lounge. He realized his mistake only now; he had to sit around anxiously for two hours, waiting. His phone buzzed again.

_Richard: 'Remember, girls like to talk about themselves, not war planes.'_

James rolled his eyes, replying the first thing that came to mind. ' _Your wife likes to talk about war planes.'_ Childish, he knew, but it was amusing to poke the bear (or hamster, as it were). And it gave him some distraction until his date showed up.

Two and a half hours later, James jumped when there was a knock on his door. He quickly finished his reply to Hammond and went to answer it, placing his phone on the kitchen counter as he went by. He stood in front of the door for a moment, trying to calm his now erratic heartbeat, then unlocked the door and opened it.

"James!" The girl on his doorstep grinned and threw herself at him in a tight hug.

He let out a small chuckle, letting his arms come up to wrap around her waist; she was one of the few people he ever let hug him. "April."

She let go of him, slipped through the door, and toed off her boots. She shrunk by about two inches and he laughed again. "You cut your hair," she said, reaching up to ruffle it.

"You haven't seen me in two years, how would you know?" James closed and locked the front door again, then walked back into the lounge.

April followed after him happily. "I've been watching Top Gear, James, I know when you get a haircut."

"That's cheating."

She sat down in an arm chair, putting her legs up over the armrest. "That's called knowing thy enemy," she grinned. "What smells heavenly?" she added, sniffing the air.

"Beef casserole," he said over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen to check on it again. It should be ready by now.

April leaped up from the chair and came up behind him. "Ooh, can we have it now? I’m starving."

"Sure. Grab me some bowls."

She went into the cupboard above the oven, amused that everything was still as she remembered, and brought out two soup bowls. "Finally learned to cook, huh?"

"Nope," he grinned, as he ladled out some of the casserole. "I didn't have to, this thing does it for you. You just cut it all up and toss it in before you leave for work."

April laughed. "I know, why do you think I don't cook in winter?

"Because you can't cook either?"

"Hush, you." She swatted at his arm.

"Stop abusing the chef!"

"Oh, please." She grabbed out two spoons and passed him one. "Come on. I think there's some new NCIS on tonight."

He rolled his eyes at her back and followed her into the lounge.

 

 

**One Month Later**

James felt his phone buzz in his pocket and managed to deftly sneak it out while the cameras weren't pointed at him. He saw April's name on the screen and smiled.

_April: 'Hey, Slow, the new Man Lab has made it to Nottingham after all.'_

His smile grew and he texted her back quickly, trying not to make it obvious. Luckily, the focus of the cameras at the moment was on Jeremy making fun of Richard's car as it lumbered around the track.

_James: 'I told you, the BBC are everywhere. Glad you're home safe :)'_

He slipped his phone back into his pocket just as Jeremy and the cameras turned to him expectantly. But he'd forgotten what they were supposed to be doing and fluffed his lines. The loud cry of "Cut!" rang through the air and James winced.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to avoid the eyes of the producer coming his way.

"Come on, James, that was an easy line," Andy sighed. "Stop texting and pay more attention. The sooner we finish this scene up, the sooner we can go inside."

James nodded, ignored the buzzing of his phone, and turned back to the camera.

 

 

"Who were you texting?" Jeremy asked him curiously afterwards, as they headed for the portakabin.

"Is it that same chick again?" Richard piped up from the other side of him, a smirk playing across his face.

James sped up a little, just enough to walk through the door before the other two and headed for the little kitchen to make himself a cuppa, neatly avoiding the question.

"What chick?" Jeremy asked Richard as they followed James.

"The one he's always texting," Richard said, as if that answered the question.

Jeremy rolled his eyes, pulling out his own cellphone to check for any messages. "Who?"

"I don't know who she is. He's not exactly open about it."

"And why should I be?" James asked, poking his head around the wall.  "Who I text is none of your business."

"It is when you're in love," Jeremy answered matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone in hand.

James scoffed. "Hardly. Anyway, I have told you her name, Hammond."

"You have?"

"Yup. When I first started texting her, you asked what could possibly be more important than the conversation you and Clarkson were having about V8 engines."

Richard wracked his brain to try and remember even having that conversation. "It doesn't count if you told me that while I was drunk."

"Not my fault," James grinned, and returned to the kitchen.

"You don't remember what he said by any chance, do you?" Richard asked Jeremy.

He looked up, stuffing his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans. "I was probably more drunk than you, mate."

Richard nodded, still trying to pick through his memories.

James wandered through with his mug of steaming tea and sat on the armchair opposite the couch Hammond occupied. He pulled out his own phone and smiled brightly at Hammond. "Worked it out yet?" Richard didn't respond past shooting him a glare. James just laughed.

_April: 'Stop fussing James, I stuck to the speed limits.'_

_James: 'I'm sure you did. '_

_James: 'Hammond seems to have forgotten your name already.'_

Richard sat up suddenly. "I have to use the bathroom," he announced, rather loudly.

"Good for you, mate," James muttered, focused on texting.

Jeremy gave Richard a quizzical look which he ignored as he walked past James's chair, trying to act casual. Then he turned and leaped over the back of the chair, wrestling for the phone.

"Sod off!" James yelled, and hugged the phone tightly to his chest, but Richard still kept a grip on it.

"Just let me see her name!" Richard panted, finally wrenching the phone out of James's grip. "Aha!" He dropped back to the ground, quickly scanning the screen.

_April: 'Hammond's the short one with the whitened teeth, right? ;)’_

"I have not had my teeth whitened," he bristled, glaring at the phone.

James plucked the phone from his hands. "Happy now?"

"No," Richard pouted.

"Good." James sat back down and resumed texting. "Now go away."

 

 

_James: 'So I'll see you in about 3 hours, yeah?'_

_April: 'Four going by the way you drive.'_

_James: 'Yeah, yeah. Have some wine ready, today's filming was a nightmare.'_

_April: 'Whatever you say, Captain Slow.'_

James rolled his eyes at the text, although he was actually smiling and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, on top of his jacket. He reversed his Porsche out of the parking space, waved goodbye to Jeremy and Richard and headed off in the direction of Nottingham. He'd chosen his Porsche 918 to drive to April's for one main reason: it was her favourite car to be driven around in. Granted, she would rather speed around in one of Hammond's 911s, she'd explicitly told him this, but this would do. He wanted to take her for a spin, and his Panda just wasn't cut out for where he wanted to go.

An hour into his drive, James heard his phone give off a muffled beep in the confines of his jacket. He glanced sideways at it, then back to the road. Though he was tempted to see who was texting him, he would rather stay on the right side of the M1. When he finally turned off the M1 onto Nottingham Road, his phone went off again. This time he decided he would see who it was. He quickly snatched up his phone, glanced at the screen and saw April's name. As he unlocked the phone, James looked back up to the road in time to see a truck speeding towards him on the wrong side of the road.


	2. Part Two: Jeremy Clarkson

"Is this April?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Jeremy Clarkson. One of James's friends, from Top Gear."

"Oh, right. Hello. Have you heard from him lately? He's not answering his phone and he was supposed to be here two hours ago."

"That's actually why I'm calling, he's-"

"Let me guess, he got lost? Silly man, I told him to use the GPS, it's what they're for."

"No, um, that's not it." There was a small pause, the words following spoken a bit quieter, in a rough voice. "James was... in a car crash."

Silence.

"April? Hello? Blasted hospitals, can't get any good signal here..."

\---

It can't have been more than ten minutes between Jeremy hanging up and a woman bursting through the door into the waiting room. He looked up in surprise, taking in the woman with messy blonde hair escaping from its ponytail confines, shorts and a tank top, and sneakers streaked with mud. She looked like she'd just run here.

"Jeremy?"

He stood up, walking over to her and held his arms out to her without a word. She collapsed into his arms, not crying, but utterly exhausted. They stood like that for a few moments, curled into each other, until a voice broke them apart. Jeremy looked over at the doctor, unable to hear anything past the sudden roaring in his ears, but the way April suddenly crumpled to the ground was enough.

Jeremy nodded at the doctor, the sound of blood still rushing in his ears and watched him walk away before crouching down next to April. He gently wound an arm around her waist and helped her stand, leading her to the row of plastic chairs and sitting her down. He suddenly became aware of how tired he was, and rose to his feet.

"Would you like a coffee?" he asked, nodding towards the door. He was sure there would be a small cafe in the hospital somewhere.

She glanced up, wiping at her eyes. "If you're going. Sugar, no milk." She gave him a watery smile.

He returned it, then disappeared off in search for his caffeine fix, ignoring the angry voice in his head that yelled that his best friend was dead.

 

 

The harsh rain splattering against the window was a rather fitting sight to wake up to, Jeremy decided as he groggily sat up in bed. He’d found a hotel close to the hospital to spend the night in, pleased when he’d discovered a small bar on the main floor. He’d drunk countless beers to drown out that same voice in his head that insisted on thinking about James. Jeremy didn’t deal with grief, or emotions at all, very well. He’d rather push it to the back of his mind and carry on with his life.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, remembering his promise to text April in the morning to check on her. His brain pounded against his skull as he quickly typed out a message, before he chucked his phone onto the bed next to him and shuffled into the bathroom to wash away his hangover.

_Jeremy: 'How are you feeling this morning? I ended up crashing at a nearby hotel,  I can swing by with anything you need before I head back home.’_

_April: 'Somehow worse than yesterday. It’s properly sinking in that he’s gone. Don’t worry about me, I don’t want to be a hassle.’_

Jeremy noticed his phone light up just as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He padded over to his bed, wiping a cold droplet of water off his forehead as he went. He smiled at the reply and sent his own, before dropping his phone on the bed and changing into his clothes.

_Jeremy: ‘Don’t worry, you’re not. I’ll be over in ten minutes.’_

 

When Jeremy arrived at April's place, she greeted him wrapped in a blanket. Judging by the slippers peeking out from under the blanket, she seemed to still be in her pajamas. He followed her through into the lounge, where he suddenly felt slightly awkward and unsure of what to do. He'd known her less than twenty-four hours, but it felt like they had been through so much together.

"Cuppa, Jeremy?"

He smiled. Apparently, she didn’t feel it at all. "Please." He gazed around the lounge and dining room, listening to the kettle boil. It was a cozy little apartment, and had all the signs of a university student living there. He eyed the pile of washing on one end of the couch and debated whether he should move it or sit on the old armchair that he was fairly certain would break if anyone breathed on it, let alone sat down.

"Ignore the mess," April called from the kitchen. He just laughed. It wasn’t anywhere near as messy as his place was on a good day.

"Oh, before I forget, I brought some lunch. I didn't know what you'd like, so I just popped into the bakery." He haphazardly stacked the textbooks strewn on her coffee table and put down the plastic bag with the three brown bags

"You really didn't have to," she told him, coming through with some plates.

"I was getting food for myself anyway, thought it'd be rude not to get you something too," he said dismissively, taking the plates from her with a small smile.

"Well, thanks." She returned his smile and disappeared into the kitchen again, coming back with their tea. "You seem to be holding up better than I am," she commented as she gathered coasters for their tea, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jeremy chuckled. "I'm just good at putting up appearances." He dished up the bakery items, a pie each and a ham and pineapple scroll.

She took the plate he offered and prodded the pie thoughtfully. "You shouldn't have to, you know." She motioned for him to sit on the couch as she sat cross legged on the ground, still wrapped in her duvet.

He glanced at her, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Have to put on a charade," she continued, picking the lid off of her pie and watching the steam billow out. "He was your best friend, yours and Richard’s. You're allowed to be sad. You don't need to be strong for anyone but yourself."

Jeremy was silent for a moment, contemplating her words. "What about you?"

She laughed lightly. "I'm not putting on a charade," she said. She shrugged one shoulder to indicate the duvet.

"That's not what I meant. Who's going to be strong for you?"

"Oh." She put her pie down and took a sip of tea.

He nodded slightly. "You were important to him as well." He watched April carefully over his own pie, trying to decipher the emotions playing over her face. She hadn’t actually taken a bite of her food yet.

"Jeremy, really, you don't have to do this," she said eventually. She lifted her gaze to meet his, eyes wide and innocent.

He shook his head. "Someone has to." He looked back down at his food, making it clear that there was no arguing with him.

 

 

_"And finally tonight, Top Gear presenter James May has died in a car crash…_   
_While driving a Porsche 918, just off the M1…_   
_Head-on collision with a truck on the wrong side of the road…_ _  
_ May was airlifted to Queen's Medical Center, where he was rushed into surgery…”

 

 

"Have you heard from April since that day?" Richard asked as they sat outside his house, sipping on a cold beer each. His youngest was running around the backyard, chasing the ducks.

Jeremy nodded, playing absently with the label around his sweating beer bottle. There was just enough sun out for him to wish there was shade for them to sit under, but instead they sat on lawn chairs in the direct heat. "We've been keeping in touch."

"And?"

He glanced up sharply, eyeing the other man. "And what?"

Richard raised his hands in surrender. "How is she?"

"Oh." Jeremy returned his gaze to the bottle guiltily. "She's alright, I suppose."

Richard frowned at him. "Alright, spit it out." When Jeremy didn't look up, he continued, "You've been acting all guilty and weird for days, it's weirding _me_ out. What gives?"

"Nothing." Jeremy kept his eyes on the bottle.

Richard sighed and turned in his seat to face Jeremy. "Don't make me start a womanly conversation about feelings. What's going on?"

Jeremy stayed silent. It really wasn't anything. Well, it might have been. Which is why he didn't want to say anything to Hammond - if he said aloud that it _was_ something, it would actually turn into something, and he really didn't know if he could deal with that right now on top of everything else.

"Clarkson!"

"Fine, fine." He let out a small sigh, and kept his gaze fixed on the bottle so he wouldn't have to see Richard judging him. "I kissed her."

"Who, April?"

"Yes, April."

"Right," Richard said, followed by the longest silence Jeremy had ever heard from the man.

He looked up. Richard was still staring at him. Whether in shock or just waiting for Jeremy to continue, he wasn’t sure. "Look,” he sighed, “it wasn't as if I planned it. I was bringing her food, and we actually had a good time despite everything, and then when we said goodbye..."

"Hang on," Richard interrupted, comprehension dawning over his face. "This was while you were still in Nottingham, wasn't it? The next day?"

"I told you, I didn't plan for it to happen," Jeremy snapped, his guilt falling over into anger. "But it doesn't matter, okay?"

When Richard next spoke, his voice was softer. "Look, Jez, I know-"

" _Don't_ say you know how it felt to be kicked out of my own home by my wife, Richard."

Richard sat back, crossing his arms. "Don't get pissy with me, Jezza, I didn't do anything. And besides, I wasn't even going to bring up Francie."

Jeremy huffed, but didn't say anything. He drained the rest of his beer and ignored the beep that notified him to another text from April.

 

 

**Two Weeks Later**

_Richard: 11:05am "Jeremy? Where are you? Turn on your bloody phone for once, no one can get hold of you! Andy's been going mad over here. You need to sort your shit out and get your ass down to the studio."_

_3:28pm "Clarkson! What the fuck are you doing?! If this is some sort of plea for attention, it's bloody childish and all it's going to get you is a kick up the ass from Andy."_

_6:12pm "Jeremy, this really isn't funny. Call me back before we send out a search party. I'm not joking, everyone is beginning to get a bit nervous. Please, just turn on your fucking phone."_

 

"Aren't you going to get that, Jez?"

"Hm?" Jeremy turned away from the television to look at April. She pointed at his vibrating phone. "No, it's just Hammond again."

April sighed and got up to perch on the arm of the chair Jeremy was in. "Sweetie, you can't just ignore everyone and hole up in my apartment."

"Can't I?" he teased, wrapping an arm around her waist and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

"No," she laughed, shoving him playfully. "You've been here five nights already, people are going to start thinking you're missing.

"You promised me a week," he pouted.

"And you promised to pick up Chinese for dinner."

"If I remember correctly, it's your turn to sort out dinner," he said slyly, trying to weasel out of it. He didn’t feel like going out into the cold.

April scoffed. "Funny, I seem to remember you saying you'd get dinner tonight if we could stay in bed all day."

Jeremy tugged her waist so that she fell into his lap. "We don't seem to be in bed," he pointed out. It was true though, he had promised he would go and get her whatever she wanted for dinner if she stayed curled up in bed with him all day. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and get out of it though.

"That's not my fault," she said, trying to struggle up out of the old armchair. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest to halt her escape. " _You_ wanted to watch a movie."

"It's your fault for not having a TV in your bedroom.”

She let out a sigh of defeat and slumped back against him. "Whatever. You're still getting us dinner."

"I'm not hungry," he said, nuzzling into her neck. She squirmed and managed to sit up a little. "Nice try, mister, but you're still going."

"Fine," he sighed, stealing one more kiss before letting her go. "But tomorrow, you're going."

"Tomorrow you're calling Richard back," she ordered.

 

_Jeremy: 'Richard. Stop fussing. I'm not dead and you don't need a search party. I'll come back on my own terms, for now I'm staying with April. Don't try to find me.'_

"There, I text him. Happy now?"

April flopped down on the couch, snagging Jeremy's phone off him and reading the text. "For now," she replied. The phone buzzed in her hand and she opened the new text. "But Richard isn’t.”

"He's a grown man, he can deal with it," Jeremy shrugged. He took his phone back and read the reply.

_Richard: 'Jeremy, thank god! Look, I know it's been rough but you can't just up and leave in the middle of filming! If you're not back by tomorrow night at the latest, I will come looking for you.'_

"Like you are?" she teased, curling her legs up under her and snuggling into his side. She laughed silently at the face Jeremy pulled before he tucked his phone away.

"I don't think his tiny body can keep up with all the brilliant sex we're having," he replied with a grin.

April wrinkled her nose. "He's the same height as me, Jezza. I'm only half an inch taller."

"That half an inch makes all the difference." He kissed the top of her head. "Now, what's for lunch?"

She laughed. "Food and sex, that's all you ever want out of me. Can we be lazy sods and order in? I want pizza."

"You're never once complained. Well, apart from now," he added, raising an eyebrow at her. "And yes, we can order pizza."

April pulled out her cellphone, and keyed in the number for the local store. "What kind?" she asked, getting up and going into the kitchen for a drink while it rang.

"Surprise me. And some garlic bread."

She shot him the thumbs up over her shoulder as the guy on the other end answered. She ordered two meatlovers pizzas and the garlic bread, and asked for it to be delivered. When she came back into the room, she found Jeremy flicking through the TV channels. She sat back down next to him and stole the remote, changing to one of her favourite shows, NCIS.

"I don't understand why you like this show so much," Jeremy commented, curling an arm around her shoulder to bring her closer.

"I don't get why you don't. Gibbs is a fantastic character. Now hush." She snuggled into him again and focused on the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys like what I write, consider supporting me by [Buying Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A2169Y9)


	3. Part Three: Richard Hammond

"Clarkson! God, man, what's gotten into you? It's not like you to-"

"Actually, it's April."

"Oh. Um, can you put Jeremy on? I need to speak with him."

"Richard, I'm so sorry. Jeremy's... um, well, he must have been allergic to something. He's at the hospital, I'm here too, but I don't know what's going on, I don't even know if he's _alive._ " This was said all in a rush, the words jumbling and getting louder and louder.

"Calm down. What's happened?” he ordered, already scrambling up off the couch. “I'll be right over, just tell me what happened."

"I don't _know!_ We were eating pizza, and suddenly he was choking and he couldn't breathe, and he just passed out!"

"Breathe, April, I don't need you passing out too," Richard said as he swiped his keys off the bench. "It definitely sounds like anaphylactic shock. What was he eating?"

"I already told you, we were eating pizza!"

"Yes, but what sort of pizza? What was on it?" he pressed gently.

"Um, it was meatlovers. Ham, onion, pepperoni, cabanossi, cheese..."

"What was that? Before cheese?"

"Cabanossi?"

"Fuck, he's allergic to that. It looked kinda like salami, right?"

"Yeah, it-"

" _Fuck!_ Listen, I'm heading over, alright. Text me if you get any news." He hung up and jumped into his car, tearing down the drive.

 

Richard jogged around to the front of the building and made a beeline straight for the waiting room before he realized he had no idea who he was looking for. His brain was too busy praying to whoever was up there that Jeremy wasn’t about to die all because of some stupid pizza. But suddenly, amoung the milling crowds, a voice rang out: "Richard!" A brunette leaped up from her seat and raced towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. This was clearly April.

"Jeremy's phone died so I couldn't text you and I don't know your number, I'm sorry," she mumbled into his jacket, having buried her face into his shoulder.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

She shifted her head so she could speak to him properly. "I couldn't get a hold of you, I don't know your number. Jeremy's gone."

"What do you mean gone?" It took him a moment to click, his brain moving sluggishly. "Oh. Oh, god."

April buried her face into his shoulder again, sniffling. "I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"Hey, it's okay." He gently placed a hand on the back of her head, and when she lifted her head to look up at him, he smiled softly down at her. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"I didn't know he was allergic to anything," she muttered.

"This is Jeremy, he doesn't tell anyone anything unless he thinks it's deathly important. Even then, it's not easy to get out of him."

"But it _was_ deathly important. He died because I didn't know how to help him."

He hugged her close again, finding some comfort in the hug himself, and she rested her chin on his shoulder. Now that she had straightened up, he found they were almost the exact same height. "He never said it was a severe allergy; I doubt he knew. You can react differently each time." He rubbed her back slowly, realizing only now that she was in a tank top. "Aren't you cold?"

"A bit," she admitted. "I didn't have time to put on a jumper before the ambulance arrived. I didn't want to leave him."

Richard smiled and eased out of the hug. He slipped off his leather jacket and passed it to her. "We're basically the same size," he chuckled softly.

April pulled the jacket on, zipping it up and pushing up the sleeves a little automatically. "Thanks." The corner of her lips pulled up in a small smile.

 

 

When Richard came back from the bathrooms a while later, he was a little surprised to see April stood waiting for him just off to the side, leaning against a wall. She was idly fiddling with a cuff of the jacket, exhausted.

"Hey," she said as he walked up to her.

"Hey."

"Can we get out of here? I hate hospitals."

"Sure. I'll give you a lift home. Come on." He started walking in the direction of the exit without checking to see if she was following. He led April out of the hospital, around to the parking lot and to his car. She offered to drive, noticing how tired he suddenly seemed, but he shook his head and climbed in. "I'm no worse off than you are. It's fine. Let's just get you home."

Her flat wasn't far from the hospital, but even so by the time he pulled up she was asleep, leaning against the window. He debated driving around for a bit until she woke up or trying to carry her inside, but she stirred a little when he grazed her arm.

"April," he whispered, placing his hand on her forearm, leaning towards her slightly.

Her eyes flickered open, blinked blearily, then fell shut again. With a sleepy smile she muttered, "You better not be waking me for sex, Jezza."

He recoiled in surprise, though his hand still lingered on her arm. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It- it's Richard."

Her eyes flew open and finally focused on him, red heating her cheeks. "Hammond! Oh, sorry. I'm just so tired."

"No harm done," he said with a light chuckle. He motioned out the window. "We're here."

She turned to gaze at her house, using the moment to try and will her blush away. "Thanks. Come in for a cuppa?"

He shook his head. "Gotta get home before Mindy starts panicking. She doesn't know where I've gone. Sorry."

"No problem." She tilted her head a little looking at him, the way a bird might consider its next meal. "I'll catch you later, I suppose."

He shot her a genuine smile. "See you later, April."

 

 

**Three days later**

Richard sat out back of his house, in the barn, staring blankly at his phone. He was home alone, and bored, and it just wasn't right. He had no one to talk to anymore, no one to sit with and drink ice cold beers. He tried not to linger on the fact that his two best friends in the world had died, but his brain wouldn’t shut up. It keep circling back to how April had been the last person they’d both talked to just before they’d died.  Suddenly, his phone beeped in his hands, causing him to startle and drop it. He stared at the lit up screen, half hoping it would somehow be James or Jeremy. He picked it up, swiped it unlocked and read the message, which was from Andy.

_Going down to the pub if you want to join. April's already there, ordering us food. –AW_

Richard blinked at the message. Andy was going to the pub with... April? He hadn't heard from, or spoken to, April since last seeing her outside her flat. He'd started to think maybe she was trying to hide away from everything, and he couldn’t really blame her. IT was all he felt like doing too. But for Andy to be meeting her at the pub...

He tilted his head back, knocking it against the wall. "Stop it, Richard," he muttered to himself, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. It was just an innocent trip down to the pub, something they'd done plenty of times. It was completely innocent. Wasn't it?

He scrambled up off the ground, as if to derail the train of thought, and wandered back through into his empty house. He wished his girls were home, but they were out with their mother, shopping. He'd been invited along, but in the past few weeks he'd been on enough shopping trips to last a lifetime. And he didn't feel like trudging around any of the auto shops like he sometimes did while Mindy was shopping, either. He didn't feel like doing anything unless it involved fast cars and his two best friends. He collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh, pulling out his phone to absently scroll through his Twitter feed.

 

When his phone rang a few hours later, he startled awake and groped around the couch for a few moments in his half asleep daze, thinking it was probably Mindy.

"Richard, hello!" It wasn't.

"Hello, Andy," he replied, slightly wary of the other man's elated tone.

"Listen, I know you're a bit suspicious of the whole thing with the other two, but I really do believe she's innocent," Andy slurred off quickly, clearly drunk. Richard was barely able to follow his words, let alone make sense of their meaning. "And I know you think she had something to do with what happened but I really don't think she's even _capable_ of that..."

"Is that why you've called me, Andy?" he interrupted, slightly frustrated at his nap being cut short for drunken rambling.

"Well, yes," Andy said, "that and... um..." He trailed off into silence.

"What, you wanted to make sure someone knew you were out with a psychopath just in case you go missing?" he laughed, only half joking.

"Well now, that's a bit rude, Hammond," a female voice suddenly purred down the line. "I'm hardly a psychopath."

"April, is that you?” He bolted upright, clutching the phone to his ear. “Put Andy back on!"

"Sorry, sweetheart, no can do. He's a bit busy at the moment." A soft chuckle floated down the line.

Richard's grip on his phone tightened, knuckles slowly turning white. "Don't you dare hurt him," he hissed.

"Why, Richard, I would never!" she gasped, mock offence coating her words. "I'm hurt you think I would ever do such a thing."

He bit his tongue to stop himself yelling pointless obscenities down the line. "What have you done to Andy?" he managed instead.

"Nothing at all. He's right here with me at the bar, having a few drinks. I think we might play a round of pool, would you like to join us?" Another laugh crackled through the phone.

"Which pub are you at? Tell Andy I'm coming to get him," Richard commanded.

"Tell you what," April said cheerfully, ignoring him. "You come on down here and we'll play some pool. If you win, you can drag Andy's drunk ass home. But if you lose-"

"You're not keeping him!" he spat.

April laughed loudly. "Oh, no no, dear boy. If you lose, then I'm taking _you_ home. See you soon."

\---

Richard hung up his phone, swung his legs off the sofa and hurried towards the front door, just as Mindy and the girls came in.

"I won't be long, just grabbing something from a friend," he said by way of explanation when Mindy opened her mouth to ask where he was headed. Then he snatched up his keys and strode quickly through the door. His car Oliver was parked just off to the side of the house, having just had a tire change, and Richard jumped in. The worn seats gave him some small comfort as he started the car and headed, rather stupidly, towards the eye of the storm.

He found a text from April on his phone with the address of the bar they were at, and pulled up twenty minutes later; the bar was just outside of Nottingham. Once he’d found a park, alongside a sleek red Porsche he noticed, Richard hurried inside and made a beeline for the pool tables. Andy and April were sat at a table a few feet from the only empty pool table, empty glasses taking up most of the tabletop.

"Richard!" April grinned widely at him, rising to greet him.

Richard nodded in response and turned to Andy. "You alright, mate?"

"Never better," he slurred. Richard frowned unhappily at him.

April brushed past him and over to the pool table, propping herself on the edge in a seductive manner. Richard's eyes were drawn, not to her stuck out bottom, but the killer heels on her feet. Stilettos, going by the slim pointed heel. _You could kill a man with those shoes._ He swallowed hard.

"Let's play," April smirked, pushing off from the table. She grabbed a cue, passing a shorter one to Richard. The balls were already in place.

"Ladies first," he said, trying to seem a bit more confident than he felt; he hadn't played pool in years. He hadn't won in even longer.

April nodded approvingly, walking down to the other end of the table to take her shot. It was a good break, and sunk her first ball. She bared her teeth in a wicked grin. "Your turn."

He walked slowly around the table, feeling her eyes on him the whole time. He picked a ball, a stripe, and took his shot. He missed by a fraction. April said nothing, walking around the table. She leaned right over to get a good aim, and he couldn't help but notice the neckline of her dress was curved just enough that when she leaned over like this, he got an eyeful. She knew exactly what she was doing. She sunk the ball, straightened up and winked at him. He barely refrained from sticking his tongue out at her childishly. He focused back on the game then, and when it was his turn managed to hit the ball he'd aimed for, only for it to bounce off the edge of the pocket.

"Tough luck," she simpered, sauntering past him. He wondered how she kept upright in those heels.

 

The game lasted longer than he'd been expecting, and he had the feeling she was just toying with him, like a cat with a mouse. With the score five all, he suddenly realized what she was doing. She was letting him think he still had a fighting chance in this.

"One ball left, my dear."

He blinked and dragged his gaze away from checking on Andy, back to the table. And swore under his breath. Somehow, when he wasn't paying attention, she'd sunk two balls at once. All she had to do now was sink the black, and she won. She was grinning slyly at him across the table and he knew he was screwed. But he wasn't going anywhere without a fight. Up till now, he had been politely following all the rules to a T. Now he decided fuck it. He watched April walk closer towards him, pause and lean down to aim her shot. Just as she went to hit the cue ball, he bumped her hip slightly with his own as he leaned down to adjust his shoelaces, and the ball veered off to the left. He stood up with a sly smile.

April let out a small growl. She straightened and turned to Richard, but he was already walking away from her. He took a steadying breath, lined up, and sunk his ball. He flashed a grin up at an aggravated April and walked around the table with a bit of a spring in his step. He leaned low over the table to line up his next shot, the tip of the cue very close to the ball, and did a few practice movements to keep it steady, when suddenly,

"Foul!" April yelled loudly.

Richard sighed, straightening up. As far as he knew, he'd done nothing wrong, and he was about to argue that when he caught the death glare April was sending him. He swallowed his argument and stood back from the table, clenching his jaw.

She smirked at him, re-positioned herself, and sunk the black ball with ease. She let out a cry of victory, grinned widely across at Richard. "Looks like I win." She rested her cue stick against the table and skipped over to Andy, who was half asleep on his stool. "See that, Andy? Pretty good, huh?" She nodded towards the barman, then turned back to Richard. "How 'bout we get out of here?" she asked with a flirtatious and rather predatory smile. "Go back to mine?" She didn't give him a chance to reply, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys like what I write, consider supporting me by [Buying Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A2169Y9)


	4. Part Four: April Roux

Richard woke groggily, blinking up at a ceiling that slowly swam into focus. His head pounded and felt heavier than usual.He lay for a moment, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, before he realized with a start that it  _ wasn't _ his bedroom ceiling. He'd stared up at that ceiling, lying next to Mindy, for many hours of his life; this wasn't that same ceiling. In fact, it was a different colour. Richard sat up with a start, then had to close his eyes as the room starting spinning.

"Morning, sweetheart."

Richard's eyes flew open and he turned to see April lying on the bed next to him, a book in her hands. He frowned. "What?" he croaked, his voice rough and gravely.

"Drink too much last night?" she asked, a sympathetic half smile on her face.

His frown increased as he felt his stomach churn lowly. "I must have..." He didn't really remember much. What had happened last night?

April placed a bookmark between the pages and set the book aside. "I'll make you some coffee, looks like you need it. Bacon and eggs?" She picked up her own coffee mug from the bedside table.

"Yeah. Thanks." Richard sat up slowly, looking around the room. It seemed... familiar. "Can I take a shower?"

April laughed lightly. "No need to ask, love. Towels are on the rail, like usual." She walked out of the room, still smiling.

Richard slid off the bed slowly, his head still spinning a little. He must have gotten pretty wasted last night. He didn't even remember going out drinking with April. He padded over to the ensuite bathroom with a large yawn. Towels were, indeed, hung on a heating rail next to the shower and he smiled a little, going to the shower to heat up the water.

After his shower, Richard felt more awake and thankfully the pain in his head had subsided, but he was still confused. He didn't remember anything from the night before, or how he had ended up crashing at April's, or if they had... er, slept together. As he padded out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips and his clothes bundled in one arm, he noticed clothes on the bed, neatly folded into a pile. He picked up the black shirt on the top, holding it up curiously. It looked exactly his size. With a smile, he slipped on the fresh shirt, relieved he didn't have to put his dirty clothes back on, followed by a pair of jeans. They fitted snugly as well, and he only had to roll the legs up once. Richard gave his hair another quick scrub with the towel before tossing it in the direction of the bathroom and heading out of the room.

He could smell the delicious scent of bacon from the bedroom, and he followed his nose towards the source of the smell, into the kitchen. He grinned at April as she passed him a warm mug. "Thanks." He took a large gulp of the coffee, sighing a little as the hot liquid flowed down his throat. "Breakfast smells great."

April motioned towards the breakfast bar with a pair of tongs. "Ready in a few. Toast?"

Richard slid onto a stool with a yawn. "Yes, please." He watched as April all but floated around the kitchen, setting bread in the toaster, gathering plates and utensils, serving up the brilliantly timed breakfast. He bit into a hot slice of buttered toast, happy to be finally getting some food into his stomach. He practically inhaled his breakfast.

"Feeling better, then?" April laughed, her tone light. She genuinely seemed to care about his wellbeing.

"Great, actually. Although, I'm still a bit fuzzy on the details of last night," he told her, between forkfuls of scrambled eggs.

She smiled at that, letting out another soft chuckle. "I don't remember all of it, either. We went that old Irish pub, you know, the one I've been telling you about? Anyway, it was pool night, so we had a few games."

_ Pool?  _ Richard thought.  _ I haven't played in years... _

"We played a few drinking games I know," April continued. "I knew it was a bad idea giving you tequila shots."

Richard smiled, but his thoughts were still stuck on pool.  _ I think... we played a round. Or was it more than one? She was wearing those killer heels... _

"Sweetie?"

"Hm?" Richard was brought out of musings, slightly startled by the endearment. "Sorry, what?"

"Did you want any more coffee?"

"Oh." He looked down at his now-empty mug and smiled. "Please."

April reached over the counter for the coffee pot and poured them both some more. "Anyway, I was thinking, since it's actually quite nice today, we ought to go out. I've been so busy cramming for finals, I haven't had much time to do anything, and now that they're over, I have two free weeks. I was thinking..."

April was still talking but Richard was no longer listening.  _ Go out? Where? I've got to go home. _

"Richard?"

"That sounds lovely," he said, setting his mug aside. "But I've got to get home."

April titled her head with a funny little smile. "What do you mean, silly?"

"Home. To my wife, my girls," Richard said. His head was starting to thump painfully again. April swam before his eyes.

"Silly goose. You are home!" April laughed.

Richard tried to stand, shaking his head. "No. Home. In Herefordshire." The more he shook his head, the worse the spinning got.

"That castle? Richard, sweetie, you don't live there anymore," April said, the smile slowly falling from her face. She looked very concerned about him again. "You live here, in Nottingham." He was still shaking his head, despite the pounding ache. "With me."

"No," he croaked out. His head was filled with blurred memories. The pool game. Andy. April's ridiculous dress. "No." He suddenly noticed the ground rushing up to meet his face.

 

When Richard woke up again, groggy and tired, he didn't know where he was. The plush sofa beneath him was strange and unfamiliar, with a scratchy blanket. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to ease his spinning head. Suddenly, a figure was hovering over him.

"Richard!"

He blinked again, and brought a hand up to rub his eyes.

"Richard, you're awake!" The voice seemed to be coming from his left side rather than the figure hovering over him. He felt slightly sick.

"Oh, so you are," the voice above him crooned.

"Leave him alone, you psychopath!"

Richard rolled his head to the side, finally recognizing the sound of his wife's panic. "Mindy," he whispered hoarsely. He tried to focus, but the pain in his head was getting worse. "Minds, I'm... I'm sorry." He closed his eyes again to block out the pain.

"Richard!" she cried, and he could hear her struggling. " _ Richard!" _

 

As Richard slowly came to his senses for the third time in he didn't know how long, he kept his eyes firmly shut. He was terrified of what he might see if he opened them. Or what he might hear. He shot upright suddenly, remembering that Mindy was here. His head spun, as did his stomach, and he leaned over the side of the couch just as his stomach emptied itself. He was shaking, tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. He fell back on the couch in utter exhaustion. He almost wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew he couldn't; he had to find Mindy. But all of a sudden, he couldn't quite remember why it was so important to find her. He was filled with the urge to find her and get her to safety, but shouldn’t be be more concerned about himself? No, that wasn’t right, was it? He rubbed his forehead with a sigh.

"Richard?" A soft voice floated towards him and he struggled upright. "Sweetie, are you awake?" April's head appeared around the doorframe, concern filling her face. She noticed his pale face and rushed over. "Richard, what happened?"

Richard glanced up at April, and suddenly couldn't hold back the tears any longer. April's face crumpled and she knelt down next to him, avoiding the puddle of sick. She brushed cool fingers lightly over his forehead.

"Shh, love, you're okay. You're fine," she muttered in a soothing tone, gently combing her fingers through his hair. "It was only a dream, you're okay." She continued murmuring comforting words until Richard had calmed down and wasn't shaking anymore. "There now," she whispered, as she wiped away his tears. "How are you feeling?"

Richard let out a small whimper in reply. His head still hurt.

"Still sick, huh? That pub food certainly did a number on you, didn't it?" April gave him a small smile, brushing his fringe out of his face. "The doctor said you might have a few nightmares thanks to the fever."

"D- Doctor? When...?"

"Doctor Smith, remember? He was here the day before last." April waited for him to give some sign of remembrance before continuing. "I was scared, you were hallucinating."

This got through to Richard more than anything else she said.  _ Hallucinating? Was it... all a dream? How much was real? _ He struggled upright again. "What happened?"

April bit her lip, glancing down at her hand on his arm. "The doctor says they were connected to James's death. Bottled up guilt, and anger." She paused, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

_ So he really did die, _ Richard thought bitterly.  _ Great.  _ He tilted his head to look down at April. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse."

She shook her head. "It's okay."  _ But it's not. _ "Anyway, we all went to the pub. You, Jeremy, Andy and myself. We stayed until closing time, drinking, talking about James, and eating crap pub food. I offered to let you all crash at my place, but Jezza and Andy took a cab home. You said you didn't want Mindy seeing you this wasted," she gave him a tiny smile then, "so you slept on the couch. But in the morning, I couldn't wake you. I thought... I don't know. But after a while, you finally woke up enough to stumble to the bathroom. I called Mindy from your phone to let her know you were safe, and promised to take you to hospital if you got worse. You mostly just slept the next day, feverish, but it got worse and you started complaining of stomach pains and headaches, started blaming me for it. You... thought that Jeremy had died as well, and Andy. You started yelling at me, blaming me for everything, asking where Mindy was. I called a nurse, who sent Doctor Smith over and he sorted you out."

Richard stared at her a moment, trying to digest the information.  _ It had all been a dream. Mindy was fine. Jeremy and Andy were fine. The pool game never happened.  _ Everything was coming back to him in fragments, mismatched.  _ Jeremy never left. I never woke up in April's bed. Mindy was fine. _ The last he repeated to himself, over and over, relieved beyond words.

"Richard? You still with us?" April asked softly, a trace of worry in her tone.

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. I remember the... dream, every little detail. It was terrifying."

April frowned sympathetically. "I can imagine. But it's okay, now. The doctor said once you were properly awake, you would only be left with a few nightmares from the fever. And once that's gone, they should stop." April flashed him another smile, this time standing up to leave. "You should rest. I'll clean this up, get you some water. Okay?"

Richard sent her a grateful smile. "Okay. Thanks."

"It's not a problem. Just stay here and rest." April paused at the door, turning back to Richard with a sly smile. "It's not like you can leave."

 

"What?" Richard asked, sure he had heard April wrong. But she'd already swept out the door and closed it behind her. Richard slumped back in the couch. His head throbbed with every beat of his heart, although it was considerably less painful than when he'd first woken up. He was extremely confused, even after talking with April; he no longer knew what was real and what had been a dream. Everything was so vivid, even the pain had all felt so  _ real.  _ But he supposed that's what it was like when you were hallucinating, you don't know that you're dreaming it all.

He heard footsteps hurrying back down the hall and considered feigning sleep, but ended up propping himself up on his elbows so he could see as April walked in with a steaming mug. He eyed it up warily.

"Don't look so worried," April laughed, handing him the mug. "It's just tea."

Richard examined the contents of the mug. Hot milky liquid. He lifted the mug to his lips, took a careful sip, and let out a low moan of approval. "This is good."

April chuckled lightly. "It should be, it's a family recipe. Drink up, it'll help you sleep."

No longer worried, Richard smiled back at April over the rim of the mug as he drank some more. "What's in it?" The hot liquid warmed him from the inside, and he had to admit the warmth was making him sleepy.

"Some tea, milk, honey, a dash of spice. I always make some whenever I can't sleep, it works wonders." April patted his knee with a small smile. "Now get to sleep. I'll wake you later for dinner." With that, she left the room again.

Richard sipped on the tea, drinking it faster than he would any other tea, then snuggled back down on the couch. He brought the blankets right up under his chin, turned his head to the side, and was soon fast asleep again.

 

 

Richard wakes up a few hours later, feeling a lot better than when he'd drifted off. He rolls over, still tucked under the blankets, and comes face to face with Mindy.

"Mindy," he gasps, struggling upright.

"Morning, Rich," she laughs lightly and helps him into a sitting position.

Richard stares at her. "When did you get here?"

"Considering this is my house, I've been here a while." She leans closer, feeling his forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

Richard shakes his head. "No. Yes. I - I don't really know. Where's April?"

"April?" Mindy's face creases in confusion. "Oh, you mean the girl James was seeing before he passed? April Roux?"

"Yes, her! Where is she?" Richard casts his eyes around the room in vain.

"Well, back home in Nottingham, of course. She-"

"But she was just here," Richard insists. "Or I was just there... But I was talking to her. She gave me tea, look!" Richard scrambles for the mug he'd placed on the coffee table before going to sleep, only to find that the mug isn't there. Nor is the coffee table. "Wait, erm…"

Mindy tilts her head slightly in confusion. "It was probably just a dream, Richard. You've been here all night, sleeping off all the alcohol." Even though her tone is light, Mindy still manages to inject a little reproach into her words.

"Oh. Oh, right." Richard starts to wonder, again, how much of this is real. But it does seem rather likely that he'd dreamed everything as a result of too much alcohol. He wonders when reality had become dreams. "Sorry, love."

"Oh, I don't blame you," Mindy says softly. "Not after what happened to Jeremy as well."

_ Well, that answered that. _ Richard's lips twitch up into a half smile, which Mindy returns, then wraps his arms around her in a tight hug. He breathes in deeply, the smell of her and their house, and when he finally lets her go, he has a wide grin on his face. A grin that falls slightly when he notices a dot of blood on her cheek.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asks, reaching his fingers out to her cheek. He swipes the blood off with his thumb, turning his hand to show her.

"Hm? No, not that I recall."

He frowns and wipes the blood away on his jeans, only for more dots to appear when he looks back up. He can feel his own blood slowly leaving his face as he looks at Mindy, covered in tiny dots of blood.

"Minds?" he chokes out, wide eyed and staring.

She doesn't say anything, and this just makes him panic more. He shoves the blankets away and swings his legs off the couch, intending to stand, but when he glances away from her face, what he sees makes his knees turn to jelly. Dark red blood is beginning to seep from seemingly invisible cuts on her skin. He makes a sort of strangled cry in the back of his throat as he reaches towards her, eyes fixed on a slash that appears on her chest, the blood pouring from the wound slowly soaking into her clothes. He rips his gaze away, looking back up at her face, to see her staring down at him, her own eyes wide.

"Richard?" she murmurs, so softly he almost misses it. "Why? Why would you-" She collapses onto him then, and he fears she's passed out.

"Mindy?" He shakes her shoulder, and she looks up at him. He breathes a sigh of relief, carefully propping her up against the couch. "Look at me, Mindy. You're okay."

She frowns at him, looking like a puppy that's been kicked. "Why, Richard?" she asks again, and he almost asks why what but then her eyes meet his, and the hate in them stops the words in his throat.

"I'm sorry," he manages instead. And even though he doesn't know what he's apologizing for, he keeps repeating it. He presses part of the blanket bunched up against the wide slash on her torso, apologizing over and over, while she just stares at him with hate burning in her eyes, slowly bleeding to death. There are too many wounds, on her arms, her legs, all over her body, too many for him to try and cover and steam the flow of blood. All he can do is say sorry again and again, tears falling freely down his face, as the light in her eyes slowly flickers and dies.

He hears a door fly open, and looks up sharply to see April striding in the door, a look of pure malice on her face. She stops and looks down at Richard, the same hatred burning in her eyes.

"How could you, Richard?" she hisses. "Killing Mindy like that!"

He stares up at her in shock and confusion. "What? I didn't... I wouldn't..."

April scoffs. "Don't bother denying it. She was your wife and you just murdered her!"

He can feel the panic rising in his chest like a hot bubble. "I didn't kill her!" he yells, looking back down at Mindy's lifeless body slumped against him. He catches sight of his bloody hands, which are still pressed to the wound in vain, and pulls them away. He rubs his hands on his jeans to try and get some of the blood off, but it doesn't budge. He stares at his blood soaked hands, his breathing coming so fast now he's afraid he might pass out. He wipes his hands on the blanket he'd used, but it still won't come off.

"You're a cold-blooded killer, Hammond," April says. "You killed her, just like you killed James and Jeremy. You're worse than me!"

Richard lunges at her then, something snapping inside of him at those words. He punches her squarely in the jaw, but she just laughs. He starts throwing more punches, each hitting their mark, one breaking her nose, but she just keeps laughing, a mad cackle.

"Shut up!" he roars, landing a punch to her throat. But she won't stop laughing.

He tackles her to the ground, punching and kicking and scratching at her face, and she just keeps on laughing. He struggles up, swinging one leg over so that he's straddling her torso and grabs her head, which is still laughing at him. He slams it into the ground, hard, but she's still laughing. Richard lifts her head again, bunching his fingers into her hair, and slams it into the ground, over and over again, yelling at her to shut up. He suddenly drops her head into the puddle of lumpy blood, and crawls backwards away from her, clutching at his own head. He can still hear April laughing madly. He backs into a corner of the room, drawing his knees up. He stares at her, rocking slightly, hugging his knees to his chest. He can still hear the echo of her laughter in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys like what I write, consider supporting me by [Buying Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A2169Y9)


End file.
